Rise of the Snow Queen
by Divya Pasanda
Summary: A retelling of Frozen, Rise of the Guardians, and other animated movies that have not been introduced yet. Elsa is being haunted by her tragic past and must work through it, but is such a thing possible when Pitch is constantly dredging up her miserable memories?
1. Prologue

**A/N: Welcome to my first ever story, yay (not so much). Anyways I don't think this chapter is too bad for angst, but others might think so, and it's only going to get worse later on. Just a heads up, it might get violent or disturbing, but I'm not sure yet. I'd like to thank The-blackfirewolf for betaing this. I am not in anyway connected to Disney, Dreamworks, or any other producers of children's movies. The summary is a retelling of Frozen, Rise of the Guardians, and a few other animated movies that have not been introduced yet. Rated T.**

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><p>The ice breaks suddenly beneath my feet, sending me careening into a world of ice and darkness. My sister's voice, calling my name, echoes in my ears as I fall into the freezing water. Trapped beneath the surface of the ice, I indulge in a useless struggle for air that makes my throat and lungs burn. There is numbness as I sink down into the depths of the murky water. For what has to be centuries, I wait in a state that isn't quite dead, but is definitely not alive. I wonder constantly what holds me frozen in this mental purgatory, and yet, there is no clear answer I can find in my cage of water and weeds. The cold and dark drive away my memories day by day and I wait so long that eventually they vanish completely. I think I can remember someone calling my name; then again, it could have been the gurgling water being mistaken for things I want to hear.<p>

Then I'm suddenly awoken, and strangely enough, it's not by warmth or thaw as one would think. I am awoken by a strange sort of cold I've never felt in all my years beneath the frozen pond. It's more intense than anything I can remember feeling before and it forces my eyes open before shoves me up towards the surface. It is horribly uncomfortable, and yet, when I feel it I know I am free.

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><p>My fingers tingle with numbness as I joyfully sweep them towards the back wall of the ballroom, creating a mountain of snow. "Come on, Anna," I call to my sister as I run up the hill and I can hear her giggle as she runs after me. We run laughing straight to the top as wind and snow blows through our hair and tickles our noses. Ice swirls beneath my fingertips, causing more numbness to pinch at my palms. The crystallized-water coalesces into the sleek shape of a glorious sled; gilded with the twisting design of frost flowers.<p>

"You first," I say gleefully as I gesture for Anna to sit on the sled. She giggles some more as she places herself on the sled, then bursts into hysterical laughter as I push the sled as hard as I can down the hill. I send a gust of wind out from my hands to urge her sled faster down the hill, but as I do an icicle bursts involuntarily from my hands. In this exact moment, she turns her head to smile enthusiastically back at me and I watch helplessly as the fragment strikes her between the eyes.

Her eyes widen in shock and a bolt of lightning seems to flash through them, changing them from sparkling aqua-green to piercing blue before they close. She slumps sidelong off the side of the sled, which carries on down the hill without her. My heart pounds as I run down the hill in a panic, yelling "Anna! Anna!" when I've reached her body, she's as cold as the ice on a mountain's peak. A pure white streak shoots through her reddish-brown hair, then another, and another.

Pulling her into my arms, I place a hand upon her brow and attempt to reclaim hold over the crystals of ice I've imbedded in her skull and cast them out, but it only seems to make it worse. Her lips slowly begin to turn blue, starting from a pale colour like the sky, and then darkening to a blackish-blue resembling spilled ink. A layer of frost begins spiraling like vines over her body and flourishes into a flowery pattern like the ones on the sled.

"Mama! Papa!" I shriek, feeling sick inside as I burst into tears. Snow spins wildly around the room while frost and ice scale the length of the walls. Mama and Papa burst into the snow-capped room just as the last of Anna's russet hair turns completely white.

"What have you done!?" booms Papa as mama snatches Anna's cold form away from me.

"It was an accident!" I cry desperately before they rush out of the room, taking a frost-covered Anna with them. I stay where I am, with the wind blaring in my ears and curl up in the snow to sob sullenly in the flurry. I never knew my powers could be harmful until now. I've never feared my powers before now, but now the fear was everywhere.

I can feel that fear turning into something real and monstrous before me. This monster becomes something material, taking the shape of a tall menacing figure that melds from the hoarfrost on the walls. Black sand flies around it and mingles with the snow, and I swear that among the whistling of the wind I can hear faint screams of terror. I want to scream with them. I hate it instantly and want it gone, but no matter how I shriek and cry I cannot will it away. Then it begins to fade away, and slowly blends in with the sand in the storm. It's cruel, glowing eyes and wide malicious grin hang in the air a moment longer than its body, then it too vanishes into dust. The dust continues to mingle with my snow and I know it is still there somewhere watching me, and even as I try to block it all out, I can still hear my own wind whispering to me.

I hear it tell me the name of the creature: _Pitch Black_.

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><p><strong><em>Nine Years Later<em>**

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><p>I stand on the surface of the frozen pond just like I do every night. Looking up to the full moon shining brightly down on me, I flashback to the night my brother met his fate, for on that night the moon shone just the same. Tears prickle in my eyes and I take a deep consoling breath of chilly air before kneeling on the cool surface of the pond. Slowly I cast my eyes down upon the sheet of ice, knowing that somewhere beneath its exterior my brother lays in frozen captivity. I remember standing upon the ice while it splintered beneath my feet and Jack trying to coax me gently off. He told me it that it was all just a game and I'd accused him of playing tricks. Most of all, I remember him telling me to believe in him, and how I so completely had.<p>

Cool wind whisks through the tree branches and sends an arctic chill through my body. Shivering violently, I pull my thick cloak closer around my shoulders. I close my eyes and whisper the age-old words, "I believe" and then I sit patiently and wait for him to surface. When I open my eyes he'll be crouching in front of me smiling as if he never left. I'm sure of it; all I have to do is listen for his voice making a joke.

When a decent amount of time has passed, I peel my eyes open cautiously and am disappointed when he's nowhere to be seen. It's the same thing that happens every time, but this time it's too much to bear.

For a moment I just sit there as warm tears streak down my face and I bow my head in calm resignation, but then I catch myself. After all these years of believing I can't let my faith slip away so easily.

I slam my fists into the pond's face, sending a stinging sensation through the sides of my hands. For a moment I just stare at its white surface, and then I begin to yell.

"Jack, you promised me everything was going to be ok!" Tears fall rapidly down my face. "This isn't ok, and I expect you to keep your promise! I expect you to come back!" I gasp and whimper a little as I place my forehead against the smooth ice.

"Please don't tell me this is another one of your tricks, Jack. I've believed in you for nine years and it's time for you to keep your promise. Papa's leaving tomorrow and I have to go with him, you know I do, because I can't keep doing this. I can't put my life on hold for you; I've been doing it for too long. I've missed so much for you and I know there is so much more than _this_." My voice cracks and I swallow hard before lowering my voice. "I want to experience life and I can't because I believe in you... and I can't do it anymore. I have to go, Jack, and this is your last chance, because if you don't come back tonight, I'm gonna stop believing in you." I wait quietly for an answer, but it never comes, so slowly, I sit up and wipe my tears away. Lifting a heavy heart, I rise bit by bit to my feet and turn to leave.

Feet frozen to their place on the pond, I stare forward down the path to home, unable to make myself move. I know the moment I leave, I'll stop believing, and somehow, after all these years, I don't feel ready. I turn myself around viciously and throw myself down to the pond again. I wail my fists angrily against the ice, and then halt the blows just as suddenly as I started them. I gasp urgently for air as I begin to sob violently.

"This isn't fair Jack," I tell him with more tears streaking down my face. "I don't like this game, Jack. I need you, I need you to come with me, I need you in my life, and-" My voice cracks but this time I don't stop it. "I need you to come back." I swallow hard and stare at the ice for a moment. "Please, Jack, I'm begging you." The wind buffs against my skin but I don't think that's why I'm shaking. "Come back." and when there is still no response, I begin to sniffle. Collapsing against the ice I begin to weep deafeningly. "Come back!" I howl, "Jack, I believe. Come _back_." Then my words break down into blubbering noises, and soon after, not even that. I stay where I am long after the gasping sobs stop and the last trickle of tears have frozen to my face.

When the cold seeping into my hands and face from the pond finally force me to decide I must leave, I find that I am extremely bitter. He has not risen from the pond because he does not care how I hurt. I turn my head towards the sheet of ice and mutter, "I see," then I gradually push myself upright and stare back at the pond as coldly as it stares up at me. "It was a trick after all."

I smile sourly feeling waves of resentment rise and crash within me. "You played games right to the end." I drop the smile into a frown and close my eyes in resignation. "The games didn't end though, did they?" When I open my eyes I find that there is one more tear to shed and I feel it travel leisurely down my face. "Well, I don't need your games, _Jack_." I tell the pond softly. "I don't believe in _you_, not anymore." And with that, I stand and walk home.

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><p>I've killed what I love most: my sister. My parents tell me that they rushed my sister off to a village of magical trolls, living in the mountains. They say that by the time they arrived, it was too late. Her condition was too critical to ever handle such traveling again, and so she would never come back. I know now that this isn't true, it was just a nice way of saying that I turned her into a block of ice.<p>

I sit in my room as I usually do, for it's now hard for me to be around other people, even with my gloves. When I'm around other people I'm filled with fear, and when I'm afraid, _he_ appears. I divert my attention from him, not wanting to conjure forth his haunting image. I fidget uncomfortably with the white gloves, for the frost that gathers in them scratches at my skin. Perhaps it is time to exchange them for another pair and drape these ones by the fire.

I reach over to pull open the drawer of my nightstand and fish around for a new pair of gloves. I spread the silky new gloves out on the bed before me then tug nervously at the fingers of the frosty gloves on my hands until I've pulled them off. I set them down beside the new ones and reach to make the transition.

"Concealing again, are we?" I freeze at the sound of his voice and slowly raise my eyes to him. "Don't look so surprised, Elsa. You didn't really think I'd ignore your attention's call, did you?" My eyes dart fervently back down to the gloves and I begin to reach for them again, but his hand whisks out and snatches both pairs away. Panic fills my heart and I can already feel the ice scaling the wall. _Force it down; don't feel it! _I command myself determinedly as I draw myself up and lunge towards him.

"Give it _back_!" I yell as I make a grab for the gloves. My hand hits air as he disappears then reappears on the other side of the room, next to the roaring fireplace. He gives me an all-knowing smile but I only frown at him and turn away to reach for the nightstand again. I tug at the drawer but it doesn't open. I pull at it again, and again, but it doesn't budge. Upon closer inspection I realize the drawer has been stuck shut with ice. In utter horror, I spin back towards Pitch who's still giving me that twisted smile.

"Let me guess," he says gloatingly, "You need these gloves." I pick up my skirts and begin storming towards him.

"Pitch, give me back-" He throws them into the fire before I'm done speaking. I stop in my tracks, not even half-way across the room. My mouth hangs open as I stare stunned at the fire.

"Or do you?" he says mockingly, and my eyes flick back to him. Rage explodes within me and I quickly turn away from him as I try to hold it in. _Stay down, stay deep, deep down. Don't let it show._

Using most of my energy to hold my powers in check, I stagger weakly away from him and head back towards the bed. "There's no need to hide your rage from me, old friend. I already know you're a monster." I shake my head in denial and continue towards the bed.

"Go away," I snap harshly back at him.

"Or what? You'll blast me with snow? I'd like to see that."

"Enough, I don't want to talk."

"Why? Are you afraid of what I might tell you?"

"No."

"Do you really think you can lie to me, old friend? If there's one thing I know, Elsa, it's what you fear." I can hear the wind whistling as it quickens around me. "You're afraid I'll tell you why you're a monster."

"Shut up." I'm almost to the bed; I can stick my hands in the pillow case and wait this out.

"You're afraid because you'll know it's true."

"I am _not_ a monster."

"Of course you are. What other kind of person would kill their own sister?" At these words I come to a sudden standstill. I stare at the bed knowing I should continue my progression towards it, but I can't bring myself to do so. I don't move because I know if I move, I'll lose control, and I need to keep myself together for Anna. _Conceal it; don't feel it._ I take deep reassuring breaths in a feeble attempt to ease my erratic heartbeat. I then tell myself as firmly as I can, _don't let it show_. I can't cry, I can't scream, I can't move – for any action I make will let loose emotions I can't control. I can't prove him right, I can't let myself believe what he tells me; I have to be strong for Anna.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" I hear Anna's voice clear as day behind me, and I spin around quickly to look at her. My heart sings as I stare down at her face smiling up at me with a snowball in her hands.

"Anna," I whisper as all my attention is stolen by her presence. I crouch down and reach my hands forward to cup her face. My hands are just about to touch her skin when it vanishes and is replaced by Pitch's.

"Boo," he says and I shriek in horror and disgust. My fingers prickle with numbness as ice shoots from my hands, but he disappears before it touches him and it sails across the room instead. In alarmed dismay I watch as it hits the fire and obliterates the heat. Frost curls around the bricks of the fireplace into the same flowery pattern that engulfed Anna.

"Look at what you've done, Elsa." His pitying voice sounds behind me and ignites a bought of rage too strong to hold down. I soar to my feet and spin towards him.

"It was a _mistake_!" I shriek as I fire crystals of ice towards him. He vanishes, but I know he'll reappear behind me, so I spin, blasting magic all around the room in the process. He has indeed reappeared behind me, but he dodges away from the frosty blow. He moves to the left and I follow him relentlessly with my powers, but he keeps moving to the left, away from the splinters of angry magic. He laughs at me manically the entire time and I furiously quicken my pace, but so does he.

We continue like this until we're both running in circles around the room and then he disappears. I stop blasting my magic and stare in shock as I realize what I've done. I did not feel the wind quickening around me, but I now realize that it has escalated into a full-blown storm. A blizzard of ice and snow swirl around me and the walls are caked in rime and slate. The windows and doors are iced over and the fireplace is filled with slush. Panicking, I try to rein in the flurry, but to my fright it only flies more wildly out of control.

"You're never going to change who you are, Elsa," Pitch says from somewhere behind me, but I block him out. "What's it gonna take for you to see you can only ever destroy?"

I don't answer him; I just close my eyes and lower myself to my knees. Placing my head in my hands I cry with the wind. When the raging storm finally settles, I stay where I am with my head buried in my hands, even though I am no longer crying. Pitch is right; I only ever make a mess of everything, but did that really mean I was a monster? I think of Anna with her joyful eyes and high energy. That little wonder was no more because of me. I miss her so much it hurts; I miss her all the time. I begin to sob softly as I sit up and look at my snow-frosted room. I couldn't hold it together for her: I failed.

I tell myself it will never happen again and pretend I haven't told myself that same thing several times before. I turn my eyes down toward the soft sparkling white snow I'm kneeling in. Slowly I poke a finger into the snow and a small laugh breaks through the sobs, despite myself, but then it's gone. Tears trace lines down my cheeks as I draw a circle in the snow and mimic my sister's words. "D-do you wa-want t-to build a sn-snowman?" I stammer over the whole thing and swallow hard before trying again.

"Do y-you want t-to build a sn-snowman?" I draw two more circles below the first and give the top circle some eyes. Pain radiates from my heaving chest as I gaze at my snowman picture for a moment before answering myself in little more than a whisper.

"Y-yes, I do." I swipe my hand over the picture; effectively destroying it, then lay down in the snow, shuddering with silent tears.

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><p>Today Papa and I will leave forever. I stand on the pond once more, holding my brother's staff over my shoulder. I look at the pond forlornly, regretting my behavior from last night.<p>

"Jack?" I whisper hesitantly to the pond. "I'm sorry, I see now that it's not your fault. I've been blaming you because I didn't want to face the truth. It was my fault you died; I should have been more careful. I couldn't accept that you were gone forever because of me." Tears begin to stream down my face, but I keep going.

"It should have been me, and yet you traded your own life for my mistake. I understand now that I need to move on and I swear I'll spend the rest of my life trying to live up to your heroism. I promise you this because it's the least I can do after the chance you've given me." I smile genuinely through the tears and place his staff on top of the frozen pond. My fingers linger on the wooden edge of the staff for a moment before I withdraw. "Good-bye, Jack," I whisper while wiping away my tears. I smile again, and then walk away from the pond for the last time.

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><p>I wipe my nose on my sleeve then look up into the scowling eyes of my nurse. I try to cover it up by pretending I was reaching to rub at my eyes the whole time. Beatrice rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head, but says nothing.<p>

"I must say, Anna, it's very brave of you to get up every day," she says as she places a cup of cocoa on the nightstand beside me. "Most people as sick as you would mope in bed their whole lives." I smile as I lower the blanket to reach for the cocoa.

"I have to be ready for when Elsa visits," I explain buoyantly before taking a gulp of cocoa. It's hot and burns my tongue and throat. I yelp, and without thinking, spit it out while dropping the cup into my lap. The spilt cocoa scalds my legs and I yelp again, this time jumping from the bed. Beatrice makes a startled face that quickly melts into something more tired. "S-srry," I slur, half sticking out my blistered tongue.

"It's alright, dear," she says sighing. "Go change your dress while I clean this up."

When I walk out of the dressing room my sheets have been changed and Beatrice is gone. I walk into the kitchen to find her making a new cup of cocoa. I stroll to the window on the far side of the room and peer out hopefully at the sun-lit landscape.

"Beatrice, it's so nice outside. Do you think I could-?"

"No Anna, you're not going outside."

"But I won't relapse. Look, its warm!"

"That's not a risk I'm willing to take." She puts the cup of cocoa into my hand. "Be careful, this time," she warns and I sigh and hold the cocoa closer to ease away the cold in my body.

"Anna, we need to talk." I raise my eyes in alarm.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"No Anna, sit down." She gestures to the table and I move hesitantly over to sit down in one of the chairs. "It's about Elsa."

"Is she ok?" I ask nervously.

"Well yes, but the thing is I don't think she's going to be visiting you."

"Of course she is, we're best friends."

"You were, but she hasn't visited you since you fell ill."

"She's just been busy," I reply, without a trace of concern, as I wave her off.

"For nine years?"

"Hey, I know it's been awhile, but she's my sister." I smile and shrug. "She wouldn't just forget about me." Beatrice gives me a pitying look; it's one I've seen before. She's never said so but I've known for a long time that she has doubts about Elsa. I can't say I've never wondered about her absence, but I remember playing in the snow with her in winter. We built snowmen, rode sleds, and she smiled as happily as I felt. This is why I can't accept that an illness would tear us apart. Still smiling, I stand with my cup in my hand, and look down at Beatrice.

"She'll come," I tell her firmly "you'll see."


	2. Bleeding Frost

Pitch doesn't normally appear when other people are around, at least I can be thankful for that, but there have been times where he has appeared beside me in the presence of others. It's rare that he does this, and when he does he never speaks, but he's there. I've always worried about this, because even when I can clearly see him walking amongst others, creating images from black dust, they never seem to notice him, or the things he creates.

When I was younger I told my parents about him, but they didn't appear to understand what I meant. They seemed to think that he was just a little voice in my head and not a human-like image leering before me. As a result to this miscommunication my parents simply told me that it was just my conscience getting louder, and so I only thought I could hear it. I hadn't known how to explain it to them properly, so I let them believe that was the case. I dismissed their suggestion however, because your conscience tells you to do what's right, and he never has.

In the end I learned to add him to the list of things I keep to myself. It's for the best really, since the whole situation has to make me wonder about myself. If I am the only one who sees him, does that mean I am insane? Is he just some sort of guilt-ridden delusion, brought around by Anna's death? I don't feel crazy, and surely if I don't feel it then...

My thoughts trail off as I spot the sail boat outside my window. It looks tiny from the height of the tower, but I can still make out my parent's forms waiting to get on the boat. They are going to attend a coronation in Corona, and I am more than nervous about their departure. They're the ones that keep me calm when my powers start to flare up; I'm not sure how well I'll be able to pull myself together without them.

The frost in my gloves has already built to the point of discomfort, but until they come back I don't dare take them off for a second. I watch them until they disappear onto the boat, then I turn away and walk to the burning fire. I have to stand there with my hands outstretched for a while before the frost melts, and even then it only melts a little bit. When I finally return to the window the ship has detached from the snowy docks, and is sailing into the distance. The weather looks miserable and I hope that it won't pick up too much while they're at sea. Placing my forehead against the window, I give a heavy sigh, and close my eyes.

_Two weeks,_ I tell myself, _they'll be back in two weeks_. The knowledge offers me little comfort. Opening my eyes again I give another sigh. Perhaps I could distract myself with chocolate, and with this in mind I head towards the kitchen.

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><p>Mama and Papa came to say goodbye to me today. It will be an adjustment for me to live only in Beatrice's company for a while, but I'll survive. Even so, I feel dreadfully ill. It's a bad day for my condition; I was barely able to give my parents their proper goodbyes.<p>

Regardless of my ailment, I still force myself to get up and dressed. As I fasten my skirts around me in my dressing room, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I step towards it and reach up to touch the white streak in my hair. I was told my hair used to be whiter, but that it wore away with time. This one particular streak though seemed to be a permanent thing. The streak was twice as thick as it used to be though, ever since I relapsed about two years ago.

I let my hand drift from my hair to my forehead, as I lean closer towards the mirror. There is a mark between my eyes, the second sign of the sickness, a white discolouration veined with blue lines. As I suspected, the blue lines are more visible today. They always get more noticeable when I'm having a bad spell.

A spike of icy pain cuts through my forehead, and travels through the rest of my body, in a violent shiver. My knees buckle beneath me and I only barely manage to keep myself from collapsing into the mirror. I move quickly to a chair and sit down before I can falter again.

I sigh and clutch at my hair before braiding it down into pigtails. There is a blizzard spinning wild outside, and its chilly winds press against the outer walls of my room. Beatrice refuses to let me go near the window while the weather is like this. There is only one window however, located in the kitchen, so Beatrice is the only one who can get food from there for now.

My head feels as if it has been stuffed with cotton. More cold pours through me from my head to my toes, as if a raincloud has found its way into my skull. The supposed water that runs through my body seems to settle and freeze inside me, making me feel heavy. The idea of getting up again is not at all appealing, but I already had to say goodbye to my parents in disarray, and it would be most appalling if Elsa happened to visit today.

I sniffled, and wiped at my nose with my wrist before forcing myself to stagger to my feet. I nearly slumped back down into the seat, but stopped myself and strained to stay upright. A pang of arctic fire went through my brow, and I stumbled and nearly fell. I sniffled again as I reached the door, and wiped at it one last time before entering the main room.

Beatrice is sitting on the couch folding clothes, and I begin to walk towards her asking, "So what are we doing today?" Before she can answer, frigid fractals burst inside my skull and splinter into the rest of my body from there. I crumple to the floor with a thud, but Beatrice is at my side just as fast. She helps me up, and guides me to the couch. She then disappears into the kitchen muttering something about cocoa.

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><p>Mercifully, the chef is off duty when I arrive at the kitchen. I move through the grand kitchen and head straight for the cupboard designated for chocolate. I pull out the ingredients for cocoa, and mix it into a pot that I set on one of the stoves. Once I've lit the interior of the stove I retrieve a tin of chocolate treats filled with caramel to nibble on while I wait for the cocoa.<p>

It's a while later that I'm standing with my back to the stove, and staring down at the last couple of treats in the tin. I'm about to select another piece of chocolate when I catch a glimpse of black dust in the corner of my vision. _Oh no_, I think to myself as I raise my eyes, expecting to see Pitch. I am greeted instead with a large black horse barreling towards me.

Yelping, I drop the tin and stagger backwards away from the horse, until I'm catching myself on the hot surface of the stove. The horse disappears as pain sears up my hands, and the sound of frost sizzling on the heated metal fills my ears. I leap away and land hard against the counter. Wincing, I look down at my hands to inspect the damage. The palms of my gloves have been burnt off to reveal the blistered red skin beneath them. The pain doesn't last long because frost seeps out of the wounds like blood and sooths my injuries; still, my hands are exposed and exuding frost, and that's never good.

Clutching my hands to my chest I take a deep calming breath. _It's ok_, I tell myself, _just put out the stove fire, and go back to your room_. I nod to myself at this, _yes everything will be fine_. I turn to the stove and pull open the door, but a black horse leaps out at me instead. Crying out in alarm, I throw crystals of ice at the horse, but it disappears and I hit the fire instead.

What was happening? No doubt one of Pitch's antics, but no matter, I just needed to get back to my rooms, and _fast_. I kick the oven door closed and abandon my cocoa as I hurry out of the room. Lifting my skirts as I hurry down the hall, I feel frost growing across the thick material. _Conceal don't feel_, I command myself. I've almost made it to the staircase when a hefty dark horse barrels down the stairs towards me.

Gasping in alarm, I turn on my heels and quickly flee in the opposite direction. I weave through the halls at random, just trying to lose the stupid thing. I try circling back to the staircase several times, but every time I do another horse appears to block my path. Shards of ice are gathering on my skirts as confused servants glance nervously in my direction, apparently not seeing the herd of horses barreling towards me.

Finally I give up on going back to my room, and instead I focus on going somewhere my ice won't be noticed. Say, the winter storm that's already raging on outside. I grab a door into one of the courtyards and throw it open. It slams shut loudly behind me as I trudge out into the snow.

Looking up I realize that another hoard of horses are waiting for me on the other side of the courtyard. Their yellow eyes glow and there wide nostrils flare as they scrape there hooves across the ground. I spin back towards the door but find yet another hoard waiting. I look left and right but there's nowhere to go; I'm surrounded by these things no one else can see.

All at once they start charging and I'm forced to fight back the only way I can. With a loud cry of agony, I stretch out my hands and let them spit frozen magic around the courtyard. I turn back and forth trying to hit them all as they come from every angle, but for every horse I shatter ten more seem to appear. I'm not producing enough power to keep them at bay, I need more, _I need more_.

I bear my feet against the ground and force more of my magic to run through me. Ice spirals out from under my feet causing the horses to slip and slow their pace. I hold my arms out to either side of myself and create great curving walls of snow. I am shaking and gasping from the force of the fear that pushes the coldness out of me, and yet I still manage more than that. Spikes of ice tear out of the ground, creating ringlets like frozen ripples. More ice shards extend down from the walls until they nearly touch the ground. Snow whistles through the pillars of winter leaving no room for the horses, no room at all. They are gone, all_ gone_, as they should be.

Then I suddenly realize what a mistake I've made. I've filled the courtyard with ice and snow that I cannot control and cannot stop. My winds have broken nearby windows. Storm clouds of my making extend far beyond the courtyard, far beyond the _castle_, and out to sea.

I think of my parents on their voyage and I nearly cry, but stop myself because I know it'll only make things worse. Now the icicles seem to point towards me accusingly, like the fingers of a giant condemning snowman. I need to go inside, to wait this out, but when I weave my way through the icy stalks I find that the door has a layer of slate an inch thick covering it. I reach out and gently place a hand on the door handle as if this gesture could somehow fix what I've done.

I bite the inside of my lip to keep from whimpering as I run my hands over my hair. I rock back on my heels, then turn to lean against the door. I slump slowly to the ground, ball my hands into fists that I tuck under my armpits, and place my head on my knees with my eyes closed.

I wait out the storm.

* * *

><p>I wake some few hours later not sure when exactly I fell asleep. Cocoa sits on the glass coffee table with a note propped up against it. Of course it's from Beatrice, telling me that she went out to stock up on food. Normally my parents brought food with them during their monthly visits, but since they were gone I suppose it would make sense for Beatrice to get it herself. I take a swig of cocoa and find it to be cold; it must have been left hours ago.<p>

I was not supposed to go into the kitchen or near the window while a storm was raging, but surely just a few minutes to heat up the cocoa would be fine, besides the stove would be on the whole time. I head into the kitchen and dump the cocoa back into the pot before lighting the stove. As I stand waiting I gaze at the window.

All I can see is the white of spinning snow that bangs violently against the window. I sneeze and rub at my nose as cold pounds in my forehead. _Just a few minutes,_ I tell myself. Outside the window I catch a glimpse of a human form and I have to wonder, _who would be out in this weather?_ I step forward and squint at the window and then I glimpse white hair.

Was it Elsa? It had to be Elsa. I closed the distance between me and the window and saw her. White hair tied back in a bun, blue eyes searching for something though I didn't know what. A small part of me hoped she was searching for me. I placed my hands against the cool glass of the window, and felt the cold travel up my arms to pierce me between the eyes. My teeth began to rattle together; still I did not pull away.

The storm suddenly picked up and she disappeared. No, where had she gone? I place my face against the window and wince at the colds direct contact to my forehead. I bang my hand a couple times into the glass, trying to draw her attention, but she doesn't reappear.

Outside the storm grows faster, stronger, and wilder till there's no hope of her seeing or hearing me. I remain waiting against the window anyway. The glass shakes and throbs with the wind beneath my hands and face, and like the storm the throbbing grows, faster, stronger, and wilder until it pulses against my cheek. Suddenly the wind hits the window so forcefully that it shatters in my face. Glass stabs into my cheeks and temples as I collapse to the floor.

I cry out violently as blood runs down my face, and cold pours over me. I shiver violently as numbness travels quickly through my head, then through the rest of me. Grey splotches fill my vision as I feel my quickly freezing body begin to weaken. I need help, I need...

"E-Elsa." I try to shout her name but it comes out a whimper. Desperately I try again. "_Elsa_!" It hisses between my teeth but doesn't get much louder. "E-e-els-s-s-sa." I hear my own voice fade with my vision.

It never felt like a dream, but it must have been since I doubt the plausibility of it actually happening. I dreamt that Elsa came through the window to save me, that she took my hands, pulled me to my feet, and that I was suddenly cured. She smiled like she did when we were kids, and spoke in the same way too. She asked me the same thing I'd been longing to ask myself, "Do you wanna build a snowman?" and of course I'd agree. We climbed out the window, and rolled about in the snow, and for once it didn't make me feel sick. We built a million snowmen, laughed until it hurt, and we embraced like we never had before. I wanted to stay in that embrace forever, but it seems I was never in it at all.

When I wake the next day it is clear that none of it was real, for if it was I would not be feeling nearly so dreadful. I would not be buried beneath a mountain of blankets and still feel cold. I would not wake up with only Beatrice at my side. No, it is clear that Elsa did not save me.

Beatrice saved me. She's the one who found me on the floor, the one who put me under the blankets, and lit the fire. She's the one who made cocoa, and sat at my side, rubbing my arms until I recovered.

I have no doubt that Elsa would have saved me had she heard my call, and I know she'll be visiting me soon. Still I am a little disappointed because it is Beatrice who saved me, and while I love Beatrice and am eternally grateful, her rescue pales in comparison to my dream.

Wistfully I wonder how much longer it'll take before I see my sister again for real.

* * *

><p>I am not surprised when I am told that my parents are dead. I am not surprised when I am informed that it was during a storm on their voyage. No, I am not surprised because I know that I was that storm. Grief fills my heart as I sit on the floor with my back against the door. I wrap my gloved hands around my ankles, and tuck my knees under my chin.<p>

I couldn't keep it together for a couple of weeks. They were my rocks, what kept me calm and stable. They left for just a little while and I killed them. Obviously my powers couldn't be trusted and neither could I, but how was I to keep it all under control when they were gone? What was I supposed to do now?

"I'm sorry, Elsa," Pitch says from where he stands with an arm wrapped around one of my bed posts, "I didn't mean for you to kill anyone. I was trying to make you use your powers around others. It wouldn't be the end of the world if people knew; I was just trying to show you that." He's lying, he's not really sorry, he never is.

"I hate you," I mumble, "Go away."

"There's no need to talk to me like that, old friend." He protests, "You know there's no one to blame but yourself."

I don't want to admit that he's right, so I say nothing.

* * *

><p>When I learn of my parent's demise I am devastated. What will I do now without them? How could they have just disappeared into the sea like that? I can only imagine how Elsa must be feeling.<p>

I want to go see her, but obviously I'm not allowed out of my room. I'm sure she'll come to see how I'm doing though. Not right away, she'll need time on her own first, but I'm certain it'll be soon. Until then I dress myself in my finest black clothes.

Whatever comes next I'm ready.


	3. The Curse of Ailments

**A/N: Hey, sorry the chapters are taking so long; I meant to be better at this, oh well I suck. Anyway, thank you to Blackfirewolfy for being my beta, and yeah my last chapter didn't have an authors note. It seems pointless to go back and fix it. My friend pointed out that this might not be clear and I'm not sure how to fix it so I'll explain just in case. Anna was hidden in the castle, and Elsa was told she was with magic trolls in the mountain so that she wouldn't go looking for her. Sorry that might not be clear. Also I'll be adding stuff from other movies in soon just be patient please. Review and enjoy, thanks.**

* * *

><p>Beatrice and I now stand side by side at the back of the crowd, our heads down, and our hands clasped just like everyone else. My black veil makes everything seem dark, as if the lights of heaven have been turned out. I can hear the priest standing in front of the tombstones speaking about life and death. His voice carries across the crowd to me and sticks deep in my heart. I am thankful to have my own gloomy space beneath the veil where no one can see me cry.<p>

Tear drops form against the black webbing of the veil, mixing with the condensation from my breath. They sparkle at me like stars in the night sky. _Children of the sun, and moon_; I think quietly to myself, _but where are the sun and the moon?_ I close my eyes and shudder with sobs.

I wonder to myself if my parents knew what life was. Surely they did, for they were going on exciting sea voyages, not wasting away in their rooms. Of course, that sea voyage was their ultimate end, but I wonder if it was worth it to feel actual air on their face if only for a day. I'd like to think it was.

I lean towards Beatrice and whisper in her ear, "Beatrice, I don't want to be stuck in my room anymore. I want to go outside like a normal person."

She gives me a skeptical look from beneath her veil as she answers, "You are not a normal person. We will talk about this later."

"We will not," I hiss back softly, grateful that she can't see how upset I am through the veil. "Beatrice, I'm old enough to start making my own decisions. I'm going to start doing things beyond the confines of my bedroom, and that's the end of that."

"It is not," she spits angrily. We've draw some attention from the people in front of us. Beatrice gives them an apologetic nod then takes my arm and leads me a couple steps back from the crowd. "You're parents left me in charge of your safety. I'm not going to fail them."

"I'm not a baby," I scowl back, "and even if I was, locking me away from the world isn't going to fix that."

"Anna," she warns but I continue.

"No, I'm going to leave that room, see the world, and live my life. I can take care of myself." And with that, I stalk forward and disappear in the crowd.

I don't go to the funeral. I am too upset, and I'm sure that if I went I would have covered their graves in ice. So I stay in my room and lay on my bed trying not to cry or shoot ice as I fidget with my gloves.

"Not mourning for your parents isn't natural, Elsa," Pitch says from somewhere in the room. "Especially when you _killed_ them."

I can't hear him. I can't see him. He's not real. The only thing that's real is the canopy above my bed, that's it, nothing else exists. I breathe out slowly and am alarmed when I can see my breath above my face. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to shove the emotions back down, _conceal don't feel_. Those are the rules,_ those are the rules_. I sigh and open my eyes again, and the tears pour out.

I don't wait for Beatrice before leaving; I disappear with the crowd, climb on my horse, and ride back to the castle as fast as I possibly can. I know she won't expect me to do this, that she'll linger behind and search for me, which means I'll get a head start.

I get to the castle and rush inside. Racing down the vaguely familiar halls, I head towards what used to be my tower bedroom. I bolt up the stairs to the top floor, hurry around the circular hall, and stop in front of a white door decorated with blue and green flowers made from geometrical shapes. I reach for the curling brass handle of the door, then hesitate.

It has been so long, and I doubt she's expecting me. I don't want to startle her, so I draw my hand back from the handle, and raise my fist.

I knock three times on the door.

* * *

><p><em>Knock, knock, knock.<em>

I've finally calmed myself down when I hear the noise. I turn my head to frown at the door. It's been a while since someone's knocked on my door. Slowly, I rise from the bed and approach the door cautiously. I tug at the edges of my gloves, and straighten before placing my hand on the brass handle. I take a deep reassuring breath, and then pull open the door.

I stand stock-still at what I see before me. Shocked into silence I stare at what I see, _who_ I see, a ghost come back from the grave. She has shifted back from the door, and has turned away ever so slightly with her head down, as if she were about to leave. Now that I've opened the door, however, she slowly raises her eyes to me, a smile creeping across her face the higher her head lifts.

My first thought is that it's some illusion Pitch created to torment me, but it can't be so because she is too perfect, too whole, and too familiar. She is older, her face matured to match her age, so much so that I might not have recognized her, but I do. I recognize her because I've thought about her every day of my life. I haven't let myself forget even the smallest details about her, and as such I know her face in every shape and form. I know those eyes, those freckles, and those pigtails. I know them better than I know the back of my hand. I know that this is real, that _she _is real, even if I don't understand how.

"Anna," I whisper, reaching both hands to cup her face, but then my eyes lift higher and I hesitate. Between her eyes is a white discolouration with faded blue lines running through it. I remember my ice striking her in that exact spot; the memory leaps forth so violently that I curl my fingers into fists, as if to trap any excess magic that might try to escape. My eyes drift to the white streak in her hair, and I remember her hair paling before my eyes.

Suddenly I am filled with visions of pain and horror, of ink-coloured lips and frost vines tangled around skin. The images start in flashes of the past but slowly blend into the present. I see the current Anna being consumed by hoarfrost so thick that you can't see her sky-coloured skin through it, until she's choking, drowning in it.

I flinch so hard at the mess of revelations that I stagger back and spin away from Anna. I almost go careening into the floor, but crash into my bedpost instead. I pinch my eyes shut as I hold myself there.

"_Elsa!_" Anna cries from behind me, and I hear her footsteps clop against the floor as she rushes into the room. "Are you alright?" she asks and I can feel her hands on my arm trying to support me.

All of a sudden I can see everything with perfect clarity. I did not kill Anna; all this torture, all this pain, for the despicable thing I'd done to the person I loved most, but it wasn't so. Yet despite the lie I know I deserved all that suffering anyway, because I know I really did risk Anna's life that day and my parents knew that too. Why else would they hide her from me? They were trying to protect her, from me, and I know they were right to do so.

I cannot risk her life, not again. I've been given a second chance, something I've always longed for, but never dared to hope I could have. I will not fail again.

"I'm fine!" I snap, shoving her away; we stagger away from each other, and I cross my arms over my chest as she gives me a baffled look. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here? Our parents just _died_! _That's _why I'm here." She takes a deep breath. "_I missed you, that's why I'm here!_ Didn't you miss me?" Yes, yes of course I missed her, but I can't tell her that because if I admit that to her she'll never leave. "Of course not, otherwise you would have visited me! Well, excuse me for wanting to _talk to you!_"

"Anna!" I cry softly before I remember myself. I compose myself quickly, and try to ignore the pinch of frost in my gloves "How could you have ever thought I cared? I ignored you for nine years, did you think I seriously couldn't spare a moment in all that time? Honestly, Anna, how much does it take for you to get it?" Every word feels like a knife to the heart.

"Just tell me one thing, Elsa; is it because of the illness?" she growls. I don't know what illness she's talking about, but I go with it.

"Yes, Anna, it's the illness. How could I ever love someone as bedridden as you?" ?The frost travels out of the edge of my gloves, and I turn away so she won't see.

"Wow Elsa, I never would have thought you were so petty." She scowls at my back.

"And I never would have thought you to be so naive." I wish I could tell her, I wish I could make her understand, but it's too much of a risk.

"I can't believe I ever _idolized you_!" she snaps, her voice full of pain, and it takes everything in me not to apologize, and hug her, and never let her go.

"Please," I say as tears well in my eyes, "Just leave before you infect me."

"_It's not contagious_!" she almost shrieks at me. I take a breath as I prepare to break both our hearts again, except that this time I'll be doing it with the truth.

"Oh Anna, all ailments find a way to affect others."

"When did you become so cold?" she half cries, half screams at me, and runs out of the room. The door slams hard behind her and the sound makes me wince. Slowly I sink down to my knees and stare down at my gloved hands; I can see the moisture from my own tear drops spotting the fabric.

"Dear Anna," I whisper softly to myself what I could never say to her, "I've _always _been cold."

* * *

><p>I can't stop crying. How could I have been so stupid? It was so obvious she didn't love me, and yet I refused to believe it was so. Honestly, who didn't have a moment to spare for nine years? I've been such a fool, but not anymore; now that I see the truth I can quit holding out for a fantasy. My head pounds from my sisters cruel words in a radiating pain that won't quit. My whole life seems to pass before me in a blur of waiting, waiting for her to never come; my heart aches. I just don't understand what could have happened all those years ago that would make her so malicious. There was a time, I'm sure, where she would have stood by me in my agony, but when did that change? Maybe it's more than just the illness, maybe somewhere down the road she saw me as competition for the throne, like I cared even about that anyway.<p>

"D-do you wanna build a snowman?" I mutter to myself as I wander the halls. Some hours later, Beatrice finds me. When I confess to her what happened she tries to lead me back to my room, but I refuse. From now on I'll go where I want, when I want, and Beatrice can't do much to stop me.

I despise Elsa, but at the same time I know I'll always care about her, even if she's no longer the girl from my childhood; in the end I just want to know why. I linger at the base of the tower steps time and time again, but cannot gather the courage to walk up them. I want to ask her why but I know she'll just push me away, and shut me out. So I just stand there murmuring to myself, "Do you wanna build a snowman?" because those used to be the magic words to make her leave the room.

One day I realize that sooner or later I have to accept that those words no longer have any power, and that day I stop trying to understand, and just give up.

* * *

><p>Later Anna's nurse finds me and explains to me the whole situation with Anna, though I already figured out most of it. I now know that I am the reason she has illness, and memory loss, and this adds to the pain of almost killing her. I ask Pitch once if he knew about Anna, but he only shrugs and replies, "So what if I did?" and though that answer was as good as a yes, it's true that it really doesn't matter.<p>

I don't see Anna again after that; I want to go apologize to her, and I must constantly remind myself why I cannot go find her. Sometimes I swear I can hear her though, calling for me to build snowmen, and I'm sure I must be going insane. Of course there's always the possibility that it's Pitch taunting me, though he claims to be doing no such thing. It doesn't matter what he says though, because I know I can't trust him to tell the truth. So I tell myself that it's only him.

One day I stop hearing her voice, and I'm not sure why, but I'm overcome with the feeling that she's stopped caring about me. I've never felt so lonely in my life. I tell myself anyway:

_It's for the best._


End file.
